Archive for the ‘writing’ Category

In Appreciation, I write, not in remorse.

To and for a time so timeless,

Sentences, scattered in structure, disrupted in its sense of sense, yet humbled by the feeling that triggered the urge to write in the first place.

I write,

Till I’m drained empty.

Till the words squeeze into sour juices of meanings.

I write and write,

Till the heaviness is gone, shedding layers of me within layers of paper, squirting blue ink of my royal blood from a loaded pen… That still drips

And I still write,

Dispersed letters, grouped only to be distorted upon a thought, that reforms then dissolves…

Into canals of clogged memory lanes, superimposing timelines from different times.

And the pen still drips,

What lips failed to speak, of the relics a crippled heart keeps…

Onto papers,

That never really existed.

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Void meets vortex

Posted: May 14, 2013 in Emotions, Life, Love, words, writing
Tags: , ,

Eyes of poignant black,

Cross over,

Where every meeting point is a turning point,
Chasing one another, in a sclera of watery white
Black halos,  searching into the depth of another
For something, anything …
A glimpse meets a stare;
Soon interrupted by a sweep of curving lashes,
avoiding the former, disappointing the latter…
Eyes of poignant black;
A void meets a vortex,
Sucked into one another
Exchanging more than just looks.
Eyes of poignant black,
Trapped into a gaze,
Mesmerized
As they speak
What words failed to behold.

 

You have been stuck in my memory for so long that you have become so rotten, even yet you show up quite often that your memory still lingers; so fresh.

This, I say…
In the abyss of remembrance; to and for a memory that with time grows yet so dear to my heart than it ever was. And do I owe it to sheer reminisce or rather to remorse that I do not know.

This, I say…
In a time so timeless; ticking back to reverse. And have I lost track of time because I have come so far or rather because I have never really stepped forward in the first place, that , also, I do not know.

And this, do I say out of craving or out of resentment?

I do not know.
I do not know.

Flow into me.
Let the words seep as deep as the depth of myself allows.

One word. Squeezed of all the meanings possessed, drained into the vessels of my heart. Collected, clogging my escaping breath.

There it stays… Somewhere within myself I never knew still existed; lost and forgotten.
There it stays… to unconsciously sow the seeds of a feeble life, buried underneath thick, filthy layers of myself. To refurbish relics of a collapsed being.

There it settles; for the meanings to diffuse, to give way for some warmth, to trigger…
A thought, a feeling, and a life.

Intense, this infusion of sentiments to be felt for the first time in a long long time grows.

A weak spirit, beautiful in its pale demure yet so insecure in its fear, awoken…

upon the turbulent  impact of one, and no more than just one, honest word.

It lingers in its subtle shades of a fading demure. It floats, in its feeble dress of a life, called upon from the depth of the deepest pits of a restless mind. Plucked and stretched out to mask the domains of present, past and future; to merge them into one thickened blanket that overlaps the margins of time. Distorted then dissolved until timeless it becomes, dominant it grows.

Slowly it seeps, softly it creeps. Relics of a promise, manifested by the conscience of a clinging memory; one that, although vague and blurred, never fails to blatantly impose.

Stagnant silence, embraced then disrupted by a fragile reflection that defies the limits of remembrance and extends far beyond the borders of mind, dipping and dripping into the waters of desensitized emotions. A synthetic breeze of life, diffused to fill its nothingness.

And it still fights the forces of remorse salting its sweetness out, turning the lust into ache.

It falls, onto the tips of dignified despair, condensed into an evaporating mist of reminisce. Vaporized, leaving behind a pungent scent of a gradient of relinquished shadows of promises once made.

Words of a memory; outspoken.

once and never again.

Words engraved by the broken tip of a blunt blade of a memory.

 

 

Through words I see…

A reflection of the face floating before me. Shimmering  eyes, so bright and vibrant. A look that slowly imposes itself upon the meanings words behold. One that lasts, and alternates to accommodate the sense of  words; words that brought them to life.

Through words I feel…

Alive.

A gradient of emotions that flows as words present themselves. An intensity; radiating, or fading, as words structure themselves together, as they materialize a subtle feeling, as they bring you, and myself, to life.

Through words I hear…

A voice, a whisper. So soft and distant. An echo, of meanings that collide within ourselves, meanings that stray; linger and loiter, then run away only to hide, once again, within ourselves.

And they still echo, they still whisper, a voice that rings a bell. A voice that purges ease into a crippled heart.

Through words…
My senses revel.

Through words…
I keep you close.

For only through words I can see, hear and feel you. Only, and only through them, I can bring your distant existence into subtle, yet significant, presence.

An aura, wafting within a closer proximity, sinking into the vacancy; filling  me up.